Chickens of the Revolution
by bloodrosered
Summary: Nellie, the surviving niece of the Tweedys, comes to live with them. She adjusts from her city life to the farm life.
1. Chapter 1

_Arrival_

Nellie Kingsleigh arrived at her aunt and uncle's farm in Yorkshire. After the car accident that killed her parents, she packed everything that she owned. Everything else was left behind in that big house. Of course, little Nellie, only thirteen would receive her inheritance once she came of age.

Upon arriving at the dismal Tweedy farm with only a suitcase in her hand, she looked around. It looked more like a prison than a farm, in her opinion. She had lived in the busy city of London and had traveled by bus to the northern part of the countryside of Yorkshire. It was quiet, something Nellie wasn't used to. She had never met her aunt Melisha. Her mother said that she was a very bitter woman whom she had tried to reconcile with many times.

And now here she was meeting her for the first time ever.

She knocked on the door, trembling. It was opened by a short, fat man who eyed her up and down. The little teenager with black hair and dark blue eyes. Her face dotted with light freckles. She looked uneasy.

"Come in," says the man who was known as her uncle.

Trembling, Nellie clutched her suitcase with her hands until her knuckles were white, looking around her new home. It was just as dismal as the outside. A typical home for a farmer.

"Melisha," said her uncle. "She's is here."

Melisha Tweedy looked up from her papers after her usual routine of egg gathering when she heard her husband's voice. Immediately she felt revulsion and disgust upon hearing that the only child of her sister was here. She despised her sister, Eleanor: the pretty one who got all the attention. She got everything she wanted. A spoiled brat. She married a rich man. All she married was a farmer...a petty chicken farmer. And now this little whelp, the exact same copy of her younger sister was here.

She looked over the small girl. Oh yes! EXACTLY like her mother. Pretty. Perfect. A child spoiled by riches.

Nellie looked down at her feet, uncomfortable to be meeting her Aunt Melisha, swallowing. Everything about this woman was a bit unapproachable. She saw this tall, slender woman with a worn, weary look. Her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun. Her face expressed bitterness. Her dress was wool. Her dark eyes looked mean and cold.

"So...you're here," says Aunt Melisha bluntly. "Don't expect to be pampered while you're here."

Nellie didn't speak. She was too afraid to say anything. Just looked at the floor.

"C'mere," she said with a beckoning hand.

Nellie approached her desk with slow caution; the floor creaked under her Paten-leather Mary Janes. Melisha looked over the small girl again. Spoiled. Perfect. Pretty. Now that her stupid sister was dead, she intended to shape this little clone of her mother. Make her work. Ruin her beauty. Yet, the girl had money...which she wouldn't get until she came of age. It wasn't fair!

"Lemme see your hands," Melisha says.

Nellie wondered why she would ask such a thing. Shaking, she removed her gloves and showed her. Melisha looked over those hands: small, lily-white and flawless. How she remembered they were once like that. Not any more. Now they were rough and calloused, ruined from hard labor.

"Lemme see your arm," she says.

Nellie looked confused by this request.

"Flex a muscle, you dolt," she said impatient.

Nellie slowly removed her coat, dressed in a black dress and rolled up the sleeve, flexing a muscle for her aunt. Melisha reached for the girl's arm and felt it. It was soft and unspoiled. Hard labor would get her to build up those muscles. Nellie flinched at the touch; it felt foreign and strange.

"Hm," says Melisha. "You're skinny and unspoiled. But you'll do anyway."

"I..." Nellie spoke. "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"Well, you're living in this house," replied Melisha. "I expect you to not laze about while you're here. There are no servants to attend your little needs. You need to take care of yourself...and help out around here. In farmland, we all help out here."

"But..." Nellie was about to protest.

"Yes?" says Melisha, her dark eyes slits, scaring the child.

Nellie silenced immediately. It seemed her aunt wanted no complaints. Another swallow.

"Good," she said. "Now your clothes. They're not appropriate here. I'll make you some new ones tomorrow. For now go on upstairs. Your uncle Willard will show you your room."

Nellie was shown to her room; a dark, dank room. She sighed as she sat on the bed with her suitcase. She didn't like this place at all. It was scary. These people who were her so called family were strangers. And now they expected her to work?!

She laid on the bed, completely overwhelmed. She cried, missing her parents, her home. Being here was terrible.

A soft knock came at the door and came the humble voice of her uncle announcing dinner. Nellie came out and walked down the stairs, still uneasy. Nellie wasn't really hungry and picked at her dinner. The entire dinner was eaten in complete silence.

Eventually, Melisha got up and walked back to her desk, muttering and pushing buttons on a calculator. Then she muttered curses under her breath, shoving the paperwork off.

"Goddamn useless things!" she said.

Nellie and Willard flinched. They were scared to move. Nellie was just about to leave...

"And where do you think you are going?" she said in a sinisterly voice.

Nellie was too scared to answer.

"Yea, I didn't think so," she said. "Now take the dishes to the kitchen and wash them. They'd better be shiny and I'd better not see one drop of water any where."

Nellie slowly felt herself turn around and obeying. She licked her lips nervously and swallowed. She carried the dishes to the kitchen and began to wash. She looked so unsure.

"Use hot water," said Willard.

The girl saw her uncle standing there. He smiled a little at his niece even though they barely knew each other. He approached slowly, filling the sink with water and showed her how it was done. Nellie swallowed nervously.

"Go ahead," he said sofly.

Nellie approached thw sink rolling up her sleeves. The water scalded her her hands, making them raw. They began to hurt after using a dish rag and soap. Her dress got soaked.

She placed the dishes in the rack so they would dry, the cleaned up the after mess, making sure there was no water or soap.

"Don't worry," said Willard. "You'll get used to it eventually." Another small smile from the short man.

"Um...thanks, I guess," Nellie said quietly.

He nodded lightly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Prisoners_

Nellie lied in bed, having a dreamless sleep. She was uncomfortable. She couldn't sleep her first night there. She spent it the entire night staring at the ceiling. It was cold. The bed was narrow and hard. She pulled her sweater tightly to keep herself warm.

She heard the rooster crowing and blinked her eyes, wondering what time it was. She saw it was still dark out. She grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her head in hopes to drown out the annoying shrill sound.

A harsh knock on the door startled her. She saw Mrs Tweedy standing there, already dressed. She held something in the crook of her thin arm.

"Let's go!" she barked.

"But it's still dark out," Nellie said.

"Oh I'm sorry, your Highness," Mrs Tweedy said sarcastically. "I didn't know you needed your beauty sleep to make yourself beautiful." She glared at the little whelp who dared protest with dark icy eyes, making her tremble. "Now if I hear another protest out of you, you will rue the day you were born. Is that clear?"

Nellie was shaking so hard with fear. "Y-yes ma'am," she replied with a quiver in her voice.

Mrs Tweedy stared coldly, but appeared pleased. "Good. Now, here's your new clothes."

Nellie looked over the dress. It was a horrible tweed color made of itchy wool. Once alone, she stepped out of her nightgown. She pulled on a slip, some stockings, which she attached to a garters. She slipped on the horrible dress and found it was a bit big on her. She plaited her hair in pigtails. She didn't know what shoes to wear and pulled out a pair of loafers.

She went downstairs slowly, her head down. Mr Tweedy greeted her with a silent smile. Nellie did the same.

"I don't think you should wear those," he said pointing to her shoes. "Working on a farm is quite dirty. Y'might want to use these."

He held up a pair of black rubber boots. Nellie frowned. She didn't like getting dirty. She didn't like that she had to wear such common clothes. She didn't like living here.

"O-OK," she said. "Um...thanks, I suppose."

She went outside with her uncle, who showed her the ropes, collecting the eggs from the chicken house. She felt sick from the smell, holding back the urge to vomit. She thought chickens were beautiful, but never had she expected it to smell so horrid. She wished she had some kind of menthol oil to deal with the smell.

She saw Mr Tweedy head over to a coal bin and out came a small red chicken. Nellie was a bit shocked and confused.

"Why was that chicken in there?" she asked curious.

"It tried to escape," he explained.

Another frown from his niece. Nellie's parents who advocated against the cruelty of all animals. They were members of the Birdlife International.

Her first task was to feed the chickens. Nellie grabbed a huge bag. She fell a few times, trying to lift it or it slipped out of her arms, landing on her toes. Unable to carry the bag, she grabbed it by the corners and dragged it. It was so bloody heavy!

She wanted to complain, but after seeing the missus's stare this morning, she best keep it to herself. By the time she got it to the feed box, she was sweaty and exhausted. A feeling she didn't like. Panting and wiping the sweat off her head, she tried to pick up the bag. She struggled...even slipping a few times, skinning her knee. Her stocking was ruined.

She tried again to get the damn feed in the feed box, struggling and straining with all her strength. The bag spilled all over the ground. Nellie looked at the mess, so overwhelmed... she wanted to scream...maybe cry. But what would be the point? Neither of them solved problems.

"Fuck!" she cursed between her teeth.

Nellie rarely cursed since it was considered improper for ladies. She only did it when she was alone or really frustrated.

"And Eleanor said she raised a lady," Mrs Tweedy said, her arms crossed. "And yet, your language is common and coarse...like a sailor."

"I..." Nellie stammered, embarrassed. "I'm sorry...it just...slipped out. I won't do it again."

Mrs Tweedy rolled her eyes. She was so pathetic...like her sister.

"You wasted a lot of feed there, idiot girl," she added with a glare. "Do you have any idea how much this costs?"

Nellie sucked in her lips, words stuck in her throat. She just shook her head with an inaudible "no, ma'am."

"Sorry. Didn't quite hear that," Mrs Tweedy replied sarcastically.

"No, ma'am," she repeated a little louder.

"Sorry. What was that?"

"No, ma'am!" Nellie answered with emphasis, feeling humiliated.

Mrs Tweedy scoffed. "Yea. I didn't think so," she mocked. Then with a scornful expression, seeing her sister there, but smaller, she continued with bitterness, "You rich people take everything for granted. You talk of being generous to the needy and poor when the reality is you're nothing but selfish, lazy, wasteful swine filled with greed."

Nellie wasn't sure how to respond. A flush came to her cheeks, a mingle of rage and humiliation. What did she do? She didn't understand.

"I...I'm sorry," Nellie answered in attempt to be diplomatic, wringing her hands.

"Is that all you have to say? You think 'sorry' is going to fix problems? Because it doesn't."

A swallow from the girl, shaking. She treaded carefully with her question. "Is there something I can do?"

Another scornful look from Mrs Tweedy, she shook her head. This whelp was truly pathetic. Just like her sister, kissing the back of everyone's trousers. Always a people pleaser.

"Just clean this up," she responded, gesturing to the spilled feed.

Nellie nodded. Upon her aunt's leaving, she was so relieved she was gone. She was certain she was going to piss her knickers after that. She felt like a weight was lifted away. Kneeling with reluctant disgust, she picked up the spilled feed.

She could sort of understand her aunt's bitterness of being poor...and a farmer's wife. It was degrading and humiliating. A rich girl forced to work like some commoner. She hated it. Her pride had completely crumbled. Nellie used every ounce of sheer will not to cry. She heaved breaths to calm herself. A good cry into her pillow tonight would help.

What was the use? Tears spilled from her blue eyes, her body convulsed and soft sobs emitted from her lips. Sniffling, she pushed back her hurt pride and swallowed it, walling off her feelings. She wasn't a child. She had to act like a mature lady. Well-bred.

Not anymore. A tear landed on the ground. She wiped away the beginnings of them with her knuckle. She continued to pick up the feed.

The chickens saw the teenage female, kneeling in the dirt. She looked really pitiful. They were uneasy of how to approach the teenager...curious even. They had never seen her before.

"She looks nice," said Babs with a smile.

"Oh please!" said Bunty with an eye roll. "We can't trust humans."

"You think she's here on holiday?" Babs said.

"I don't think so," said Ginger.

After finishing this, Nellie picked herself up and dragged the bag back to the barn. By supper, her entire body hurt. Her hands had horrible blisters. She was filthy. She didn't like it at all. A warm bath would do after supper.

There was something she wanted to discuss with the Tweedys. She really didn't like how the chickens were treated. She had seen a select few try to get out...a ginger one was getting tossed in the coal bin just recently...then let out after a couple of hours.

"Aunt Melisha?" Nellie said.

"Yes?" she replied not even looking from her dinner.

"I want to talk about...something."

"What?"

"It's about the treatment of the chickens. Don't you think locking them in a coal bin seems a bit...harsh?"

Melisha slowly looked as the whelp dared to question her.

"And?"

"Well, it's just...maybe if you were a bit more kinder to them, maybe they'd be less likely to...escape?"

Melisha cocked an eyebrow. She felt anger boiling.

"Why the bloody hell do you care?" she spat. "What are you, some kind of animal rights activist? Was that rich Daddy of yours a Kosher man?"

"Actually, y..." Nellie was about to answer.

"They're chickens, you whelp! Apart from you, they are the most stupid creatures created on earth. Worthless nothings put on this earth to serve for two purposes: lay eggs. And when they're no longer useful, food. So if you have some kind of problem with how I run things here, you better just keep it to yourself. Is that clear?"

"But..." Nellie said.

"Get out!" she shrieked.

Nellie ran outside, her heart pounding...to her horror, she heard the door lock click. Nellie was left outside! She twisted the doorknob...rattling the door.

"Let me in!" she shouted.

"Stupid worthless girl," Mrs Tweedy grumbled. "That'll teach her to question me."

Mr Tweedy frowned as he heard the pleading of his niece. He didn't think that was fair.

"Don't you dare touch that door," hissed Mrs Tweedy as he reached for the door.

"B-but, love," said Mr Tweedy. "Isn't that a bit...harsh, leaving her outside? She'll catch a cold."

"You can join her if you wish," she answered harshly, crossing his arms.

Mr Tweedy lowered his head in defeat. He had no choice. The missus could be vindictive if she got angry. Best not to get on her bad side.

Nellie sighed in resignation. She shivered and tucked her hands under her arms. Where was she supposed to sleep?

Strolling towards the barn, kicking a rock, she saw a flash of red...Nellie looked but saw nothing. To her dismay, the barn was locked. A bitter look from the girl as she kicked the door. Sighing in defeat, she slumped against a chicken wire fence, making it clink. The frown deepened on Nellie's face.

"Shit," she hissed.

* * *

Ginger saw the sulky teenager. She was left outside...or shut out from what she had seen. She heard the teenage female shout at the door, tugging and twisting the doorknob.

After a few moments, the teenager gave up...looking for another place for shelter. It was a cold night. Ginger had to fluff her feathers just after stepping outside. She didn't know how to approach the teenager. She was rather quiet...even disgusted with the farm. Definitely not from here.

The teenager let out a curse as she leaned on the fence, tucking her hands in the pockets of her sweater. She pulled out a box and a match, lighting it. There was a smooth stream of smoke. Between her fingers was a thin white stick that glowed orange in the night.

Nellie decided to have a smoke. Better than crying. She picked up the habit at prep school with some of the girls. She took a lungful of smoke and exhaled, looking at the stars. Nellie didn't smoke often...just at times she was stressed. The problem was hiding it. She always kept mouthwash nearby, perfume. She smoked outside and downwind. Classic ways of not getting caught.

Her parents certainly wouldn't approve. They said smoking made ladies look unattractive and it was improper. Yet she had seen all the elegant young ladies do it at parties on those long cigarette holders. Why shouldn't she? She wasn't sure about her new family, but who cared? They sure as hell didn't.

Ginger got close to the teenager and saw she was smoking. She recognized it since the farmer did it with his pipe by the window every night after supper.

Nellie heard footsteps behind her and saw a ginger colored chicken, staring curiously at her. Nellie wasn't sure. She hated the uncomfortable silence. She wanted to have some kind of conversation, but talking to a bird? Was she that desperate...or mad? The bird was staring at her. Again it made her uncomfortable. To break the awkward silence, she spoke.

"Don't worry, I'm not on guard duty."

_Jesus! I'm talking to a chicken! I have gone mad!_ Nellie thought.

Ginger was surprised the teenager spoke to her. She never expected a human to speak to her. The least interaction she got from humans was the farmer or his wife. They spoke to her like she was dirt...well the farmer, at least. His wife just ignored them and was a woman of little words. Just how little she spoke and her stare was frightening enough. She ruled the chicken farm with a cold, iron fist. Her demeanor was domineering, colder than an icy wind...she even made the farmer scared.

Another inhale of smoke and blew a stream of smoke. Ginger watched the teenager. She took a few more puffs of her cigarette and stomped it out in the mud. She really wanted to preserve her supply of cigarettes since she probably wouldn't be able to get more. Yet tonight would be an exception. She was forced to sleep outside, alone in the cold, English countryside. This place was no home to her. It was a prison.

She pulled out another cigarette and lit it, taking a deep lungful and exhaled slowly.

"Don't say anything to the mister and missus about my bad habit," Nellie said. "I won't say anything about your escaping."

Ginger listened. She felt a connection to the teenager. A little wary, but nonetheless... could she trust this human? She had a distrust for humans. Yet this one was...different.

"Looks like we're both prisoners here," Nellie said to the chicken, flicking ash on the ground. "I'd want to escape from here if I were you...and if I knew where to go."

The chicken stared at Nellie. Was it listening? Not that it mattered. She saw it...nodded? Blinking her eyes a few times. Had she gone round the bend?! Did the chicken just respond to her? She shook her head, thinking it was just the high from the nicotine.

After finishing her last smoke, Nellie sat down on the ground. It was still damp and cold. Shivering, she drew her legs in to keep warm. She was sure she would freeze. She closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep...

Ginger wondered if she should she say something and risk the secret. The girl was left outside and it was getting colder by the minute. Ginger went back to Hut 17.

"Ladies," said Ginger. "The girl's been left outside. We should help. Babs, how fast can you knit?"

"On it!" she said cheerfully, clinking her knitting needles.

"Are you sure you can trust that...human?" Bunty said skeptical.

"This one, yes."

A few of the chickens went outside, seeing the shivering teenager. Nellie felt she was going numb. The chickens climbed on top of each other, standing on their shoulders. They tossed the blanket over the fence, in hopes of avoiding the barbed wire. It was a perfect shot! Right on her lap. Upon seeing the teenager stir, the chickens scattered quickly and out of sight.

Nellie blinked her eyes open, finding a knitted blanket. Cocking an eyebrow, she wondered where it came from. Shrugging, she just wrapped it around her shoulders, walking towards the porch to one of the chairs to sleep.

After drifting between sleep and awake, who knew how long it had been going on, she heard the door open and saw Mr Tweedy standing there.

"Come inside," he said quietly.

Nellie got up stiffly and nodded, going inside.


End file.
